Swallowed by the Sea
by The-Buffinator
Summary: Buffy is fed up with her life and wants to end it. What does Spike have to say about it?
1. Deep Thoughts

**A/N:** The awesome song inserted here is "Breathe No More" by Evanescence.

Deep Thoughts 

Lately I've been asking myself the same question every day: Why me? Why am I the Slayer? Why did I have to get ripped out of Heaven? Why do I feel so numb inside? Why am I broke?

And I can't find an answer. Nope, try as I might, my brain can't seem to pop out a reasonable answer to any of those questions. Luck is not on my side.

Walking into my house after a night of routine patrol, I slightly wonder why it's so quiet. All the lights are out and there is no sound coming from any part of the house. I shrug and enter the kitchen, taking my jacket off and placing it on a stool. Since I'm so starving that I could very possibly eat 10 horses, I immediately head towards the fridge. I spot a note attached to it and pick it up.

'Hey Buffy,

I'm spending the night at Janice's and Will said she would be at the library for a while. Hope you had a good patrol. Kill anything interesting?

Dawn'

I shake my head and sigh. Another boring night alone. No, luck is definitely not on my side. In fact, it's on another planet. Whatever.

My muscles are starting to ache and I can smell the odor of dust and grease coming off of me and I grimace. Scrunching my nose up, I take the stairs two at a time and walk quickly to the bathroom. I have _**got**_ to take a shower.

"Stupid job," I mutter, turning the shower on. Why did I even take that job?

Oh, right. I'm broke.

A wave of self-pity goes through me and I fight back tears as I undress. I know I shouldn't be feeling so sorry for myself but – wait, no. Why shouldn't I? I have a right to don't I? I mean, I was torn out of heaven. And by who? Oh yeah, my _**best friends**_. Pft, what friends they are. They didn't even ask me. Just "lad de da, let's bring Buffy back without her permission. Oh, and yeah, why don't we _**leave her in her coffin." **_Gosh. Did they even have their brains with them at the time? I mean, who in their right mind resurrects someone without even taking them out of their coffin? Do I see anyone with their hands raised? No.

Selfish idiots.

Maybe I'm being a little hard on them, but I can't help it. Every time I see Willow I just want to go up to her, shake her and yell "Stupid witch!" God, it's so hard just being around all my friends. Pretending to be happy. Pretending to be perfect.

I'm far from perfect.

If only they knew.

They keep looking up to me, leaning on me and expecting me to be this great leader. Sometimes it seems like they forget…forget that I'm just a girl. I'm just as vulnerable as any of them. Sure, I'm the Slayer, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings. That I'm perfect. They all expect me to be.

Except for Spike.

Letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles, I think about Spike and our relationship since I've come back. Everything is so different between us now. We've been spending so much time together that I've actually come to consider him as a friend. And that's a long way for me. Hell, just last year I considered him dirt beneath my shoes. But now that I've gotten to know him a little bit more…I've seen a different side to him. A sensitive side. He's been the only person I can run to lately, and every time I come to him, there's this love and adoration in his eyes that burns me. A lot of times, I've come to him in tears, and he'll get this concerned look on his face and he'll just hold me. Won't even ask any questions. I've seen so many emotions play across his face since I've been back, ranging from love and joy when he found me alive to pain and misery when he was giving me that "Every night I save you" speech.

It's easier when I'm around him, but my life is still a living hell. I hate it. I hate all of it. I hate being the slayer, I hate having to pretend to be happy around my friends, I hate being broke, I hate having to work in that craphole of a place, I hate that I was torn out of heaven, I hate just **BEING** here. Everyday is just another 24 hours of torture.

Now letting the tears fall, I stand under the hot shower spray sobbing. My shoulders shake with the intensity of my tears, and my chest tightens with every wheeze. I bring my hands to my face, unable to tell the difference between my tears and the water splashing over my face. But I don't pay attention to it. All of my focus is on my pain and I continue to sob like I've lost everything.

And I have. I've lost all the happiness and peace I had in heaven.

I've lost myself.

After 40 minutes of gut-wrenching sobbing, I'm finally able to stumble out of the shower. I rub at my swollen, puffy eyes and half-heartedly dry myself off. Standing in front of the mirror once I'm dried off, I look over my body. I haven't eaten much lately except when I've had a rough night of slaying and it's starting to take a toll on my body. I'm disgustingly skinny and my ribs are barely visible. My skin is a deathly pale color, and there are dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.

I don't even recognize this person. This isn't me. It can't be. Sometimes I wonder if…if my soul was left behind in Heaven. And that's the reason I feel so empty inside, so numb, so emotionless. I've lost my soul. That would make sense, right?

'I've been looking in the mirror for so long

That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side'

My reflection starts to get blurry and it's then I realize that I'm crying again. Feeling pathetic and miserable, I wipe violently at my eyes and take another look at myself. Feeling suddenly disgusted at my reflection, I leap forward and smash the mirror, starting to cry again.

'All the little pieces falling, shatter

Shards of me,

Too small to put back together,

Too small to matter,

But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces'

"It's not me!" I yell. "It's not me! I don't look like that!"

After smashing the mirror into a million pieces, I look at my hands, which are now bleeding badly. I stare at them, watching the blood seep through my fingers and trickle down my hand and arm. I'm transfixed by this, feeling oddly comforted by the pain I feel.

'If I try to touch her,

And I bleed,

I bleed'

Tears are still rolling down my cheeks and they fall onto my arms, mingling with my blood. I frown and my gaze travels to the broken pieces of glass all over the counter and floor. Picking up a big, sharp piece I turn it over in my hand, studying it. My gaze flickers briefly towards my wrist and then back towards the piece of glass.

A voice in the back of my head is yelling at me, "What are you doing?!?!?!" But I ignore it, because it's such a tiny voice. Nothing feels right to me anymore. Everything is wrong. I just want it to end.

"It's not me," I whisper.

Staring at the shard of glass in my quivering hand, I think to myself…

'Is life even worth it?'

'And I breathe,

I breathe no more'


	2. Suicide Attempt and Rescue

Suicide Attempt…and Rescue

'Is life even worth it?'

That's the question screaming at me. I'm still holding the glass shard and I'm shaking violently by now.

It would be so easy. Just take the shard and slice it across my wrist. And everything will be over. All my pain. Maybe I'll get to go to Heaven again. If they'll take me back.

But something is holding me back. And I don't know what. Is it Dawn? I know I'm being selfish for leaving her again, but I can't do it anymore. She'll be fine. They all will. They were all fine before.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course they weren't fine. _Why do you think they brought you back, Buffy? They couldn't do it all without you. They need you._

A new feeling is taking me over now. Guilt. By taking away my pain I'll be re-emerging theirs; Dawnie's. Oh God, the look on her face when she saw me alive. She was so happy. All she wanted was me to be with her; she didn't ask for all this. She just wanted her sister back.

I have to close my eyes tightly against the image of Dawnie's face when she finds out her sister has gone away; again. The unbearable pain that would show there.

Kind of like the pain I've felt ever since I was brought back.

Now that I think about it, pain seems like such an understatement. I don't think there is a word for what I feel. It's deeper than pain. So much deeper. It's like there's darkness clouding me, suffocating me, and I can't get free, can only let it take me over as I sink deeper and deeper each day. Losing more of myself every day.

Which brings back the question, 'Is life even worth it?'

And then suddenly it's clear to me. The answer is simply 'no.' It's not worth it if there's so much pain. I already lived my life. A pretty crappy life, yeah, but still a life. The life of the Slayer. I did my good deeds, died to save the world, why couldn't they have just let me rest? I was so very tired. I just wanted to be happy. And I was. But **THEY** took that away from me. Ripped me from my paradise, my reward for protecting the world for all those years. Why?

Because they're selfish idiots?

Yeah, that sounds about right.

I feel another sob tear through my throat, and my vision gets blurry again. Feeling anger now towards my friends, I've made up my mind.

I can't do it anymore. I **WONT** do it anymore.

Still trembling and crying, I carefully take the glass shard and lift it to my wrist. Placing it against my sensitive skin, I quickly slice it deep. Blood immediately comes to the surface and trickles down my arm and onto the floor. I'm still sobbing.

I take the shard in my other hand and slice my other wrist also. My wrists and hands burn and ache badly, but again the pain is comforting. Welcomed.

There's no turning back now and I almost sigh in relief of the fact that it's all going to end. I won't have to do this anymore.

Leaning back against the wall, I sit and wait, watching myself bleed.

_'I'm so sorry, Dawnie…'_

"_I wanna be sedated_." Spike's sing-song voice rang out as he walked through the Summers' front door. He bobbed his head to the music only he could hear and he opened his mouth to yell out in the dark, empty home.

"Oi, Slayer! Why is it so dark? Trying to go bloody blind?" He shook his head and switched on the living room light, looking around and seeing no one. He frowned and went into the kitchen, turning on the light also. Seeing a piece of paper on the counter, he picked it up and read the note. He grinned.

"Well, well, looks like it's just gonna be you and me then, luv!" he called again. When he didn't get an answer, he frowned again and went towards the staircase, thinking that maybe she'd gone to sleep already. He grinned again. _(Mmm…Buffy in bed. Looks like this night isn't gonna be so dull after all.) _

But when he got to the first step, he froze. Catching a scent in the air, he inhaled sharply. His eyes widened when he caught the unmistakable scent of blood. Feeling suddenly very concerned and on the edge of panic, he raced up the stairs and followed the scent to the bathroom.

Throwing open the door, he stood in absolute shock and horror as he took in the disaster of the bathroom and the bloody, broken mess that was Buffy.

Oh god, oh god, he found me.

He wasn't supposed to find me. Not like this. Not when it's not over yet.

I won't look at his face. Won't see the sheer horror written on it. I can only look at his shoes as I crumble in defeat.

He seems to come out of his state of shock and he stomps over to where I'm huddled against the wall, pieces of glass crunching under his boots. He kneels down and finally I get a look at his face, horror and panic still in his eyes.

"Buffy?" He asks softly. "What happened? What did this to you?"

I'm confused for a second before I realize that he hasn't figured it out yet. He thinks something attacked me. He'd never guess that this was all my doing. At least not until he sees my wrists.

I don't answer, just continue to look at him blankly, too tired to even respond. I just lie there.

He frowns in concern and touches my hair. "Buffy? Luv? Talk to me. What happened?" I still don't answer.

He finally looks down at my body and it's then I realize that I'm still naked. But I can't seem to find the energy to care.

His eyes suddenly widen and I watch as he lifts one of my arms up, inspecting my hands and wrist. Confusion is written on his face and he lifts my other arm up, seeing the same wounds. When he sees no other wounds on my body, he seems to piece together what happened. I watch as the horror returns to his face and he looks up at me with sheer devastation.

"Buffy? What did you do?"

There's something in his tone that makes me uncomfortable and I swallow nervously. I look at him with my tear filled eyes and still don't answer him.

"Why?" He asks, with a tinge of anger in his voice, and I see a muscle in his jaw twitch.

"It's not me…" I whisper. "It's not me."

He frowns in confusion and frustration and takes hold of my shoulders, making me look directly at him. "What's not you? What are talking about, pet? What the bleeding hell happened tonight?"

I glance towards the broken pieces of glass and respond, "It's not me." I know I'm sounding like a broken record but that's the only thing my brain can seem to spit out right now.

I can see the anger and frustration in his eyes and he starts to shake me. "What the hell are you talking about, Buffy? Talk to me!" He shakes me again and then suddenly it's all too much for me. I burst into tears again and I barely register the surprised look on his face. I grasp his biceps and continue to sob.

"Oh god, Spike," I choke out. "It's all too much. I can't take it anymore. Please, I just want it to end. Let me end it."

I can sense his shock, but I ignore it. I leap forward into his arms and I hold on tightly to his neck, practically wailing in agony. After a few seconds, his arms go around me tightly and I cry even harder. "Please, please, let me rest."

He holds me as I cry, which seems like hours to me. When I've nearly cried myself out, only occasionally letting out a sob, he brushes my hair back and whispers in my ear, "Come on, luv, let's get you cleaned up."

My eyes widen as I take in the fact that he's stopping me. Not letting me end it. I pull away from him abruptly, seeing the surprised look on his face again.

"No!" I yell with enough force to send the most confident vampire running. "I have to end it. It's not me anymore! You have to let me end it."

"By killing yourself?" Spike asks, strangely calm as he looks into my eyes. "That's not the solution, pet. I know it hurts like hell, but –"

"No, I'm not hearing this," I say, shaking my head vigorously and closing my eyes shut. I mumble to myself and I'm pretty sure I sound like a mental asylum patient, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that he's stopping me. Stopping me from rest. I feel a sudden surge of anger towards him and I lash out and hit him in the chest. But I'm weak from loss of blood and the hit is harmless to him. He stares at me in deep concern with those intense blue eyes of his, and that only makes me hit more. I continue to punch uselessly at him, yelling and crying all at the same time. "It's not me! Why won't you let me rest? Please, Spike, just let me rest."

I hear a choked sound come from him and he winds his arms around me again, trying to still me. I finally lose the energy and I collapse against him, feeling completely helpless and lost. I start sobbing again and suddenly I start feeling lightheaded and my vision is starting to fade to black.

I realize it's from blood loss and I just close my eyes as I start to lose consciousness, listening to the sounds of Spike's soothing words in my ear.


	3. Escape

**A/N:** I'm aware that you all will probably want to severely punish me for what I've done with Buffy; but don't worry, all will be well in due course. :

Escape

I wake to the sound of voices in the hallway. One is low and tight, and I recognize it instantly as Spike's. The other is high and frantic, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it's Willow's. I don't catch what they're saying, but then again, I don't particularly care. The only thing running through my mind is, "What the hell happened?" I can't seem to remember and I slowly open my eyes to find myself in my bed. I'm wearing a blue tank top and blue pajama bottoms with little fishies on them. Scowling, I curse them for being so happy looking. Wincing when I hear Willow's voice rise an octave higher, I notice the bandages wrapped tightly around my wrists, some blood seeping through them. Just like that, I get flashbacks and it all comes back to me. Coming home to an empty house, getting suddenly depressed, breaking the mirror, cutting myself…Spike finding me and then passing out. The force of the memories are so great and I let out a gasp. Looking tearfully around the room, I notice the picture of me, Xand and Will on my nightstand when we were in high school, all of us beaming in happiness. Looking at the faces of my friends, I feel betrayed once again. My chin trembles as I hear Willow yelling in the hallway and a sob makes its' way up my throat and out.

I cry loudly, not even considering the fact that Willow and Spike are in hearing range. I hear my door open and I tense, but I'm not able to control my weeping. I can't even stand being around them. Willow was the cause of this, anyway. She was the one who brought me back. And Spike…he stopped me. I was finally going to rest and he stopped it. Stopped me from being happy.

It's then I realize that I was betrayed by the only person I had considered a friend since I came back. Spike was the only person I could even stand being around, the only one I could talk to. And I don't have that anymore. The only reason I'm here right now, on this bed, is because of him. Because he wouldn't let me go.

I cry harder at the intensity of that realization, and I move to the opposite side of the bed, curling into a ball at the very edge.

"Buffy? What's wrong? What do you need?" That's Willow, her voice practically screaming panic. I shake at the anger I feel towards her and all I want to do is throw her out.

"Buffy?" That's Spike now. His voice is soft and calm, and I almost forget that I'm mad at him. That he's the one to blame for me being here right now. His voice is so smooth, so mesmerizing that I have to force myself to remember I'm pissed at him.

Letting my sobs quiet, I peek over my shoulder and see both of them standing there. Willow is by the door, ringing her hands together with the most panicked look on her face. Spike is closer, standing at the opposite edge of the bed and looking at me with such mixed emotions it's hard for me to digest them all. I get angry, because I know he doesn't really care. How could he? When he's the one that stopped me from resting. Who wouldn't let me go back. He knew I was in heaven, that I was happy, and that I wanted to go back. He doesn't care. He doesn't love me. No one does. They say they care, but they don't. How could they when all they do is hurt me?

Pissed + Buffy is naturally a bad combination. I'll yell and scream and even get violent and everyone knows not to mess with me then, let alone talk or look at me. But add depressed and insane to that, then I'm worse than any apocalypse that comes our way.

I guess it's Willow's and Spike's lucky day, because I'm exactly feeling all of those things.

Suddenly crawling off of my bed, I back up towards the closet and glare defiantly at Willow and Spike. I clench and unclench my fists, resisting the urge to knock them both out. I see the confused looks overcome their faces and Spike steps closer to me. Backing up a step, I tell him through gritted teeth, "Stay the hell away from me."

The deeply confused and concerned look on his face is almost funny and I find myself mocking him in my head. I'm slightly surprised at the hostility I'm feeling, but shake it off.

"Buffy?"

I turn my head sharply to Willow, looking anything but friendly. I see a flash of fear cross her face and I feel disgustingly satisfied. "What?" I say icily, showing no emotion whatsoever. Well, no emotion other than pissed off, that is.

She dares to step closer and I stay in my place this time, curious to what she wants to do. Her eyes fill with tears and I see her gaze flicker to my bandaged wrists and back to my face.

"Why, Buffy? What happened? Please, talk to me." There is such desperation in her voice, and a little voice in the back of my head is reminding me that she's my friend and I should tell her, but I ignore it, because a bigger – much bigger – part of me despises her at the moment.

"Why would you like to know? It's none of your business anyway."

"Buffy –"

"Shut up!" I yell at Spike, turning back to him with a vicious glare. A hurt look comes across his face, but I pay no attention to it. "You don't have any say in this, anyway! You've already done enough."

"He saved you, Buffy. We would've lost you." Willow replies gently.

I laugh bitterly and roll my eyes. "Right, he saved me. Saved me from what? Happiness, peace, rest? What's wrong with that, Willow? What's wrong with me having that?"

Willow looks at me, bemused, and blinks. "But – Buffy, you weren't happy. We saved you from –"

"Hell?" I ask, venom practically dripping off my voice. I laugh again, but it's humorless. "What made you think that, Willow? Do you honestly think that after all the good I've done, all the sacrifices I've made for this world, that I'd go to Hell?"

Willow looks taken back, but I see the realization dawn on her. Her eyes widen in horror and I see the moisture start to build up. "You – You were in Heaven."

I smile a bittersweet smile, spreading my arms in a grand gesture. "Congratulations. Now you know what you 'saved' me from."

Willow looks down in shock, trying to process this information. I feel anything but guilty about telling her this, and it wasn't in the most polite way either.

"I-I didn't know," she said softly, almost to herself.

I just stare at her, my face completely emotionless.

"What happened, Buffy? What made you do this?" It's Spike again, and I turn my head so sharply towards him that I could've gotten whiplash. His voice startled me, but I contort my face back into the angry mask I was wearing earlier.

"That's for me to know, and you to stay the hell out of." I smirk, only slightly, at his confused face, my jaw clenching tightly. I feel a wave of disgust go through me and I can't stand being around them anymore. Turning around quickly, I backhand Willow, hard, before she can even register what happened. I watch as her body slumps to the floor, unconscious.

Turning back to Spike, I watch the utterly shocked look on his face. Taking advantage of his surprise, I leap at him and hit him across the jaw, making him reel back and crash into my dresser. I kick him in the stomach, and he cries out in pain. Lifting him up by the lapels of his jacket, I throw him across the bed and into the door of my closet.

Smiling to myself, I walk slowly around my bed, watching Spike get a hold of himself. He looks up at me again, surprise and pain clearly etched on his face.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Slayer?!"

He's trying to put up a tough front, but I hear the slightly disguised fear in his voice, and see the way his eyes flick wildly across my face as if he's desperately searching for a sign of the Buffy he thought he knew.

I shrug and cross my arms. "I thought you would know by now, Spikey. You knew how much I hated my life, how much I can't stand being here. You stopped me from ending it. All because you can't handle me gone." I lift him up again and penetrate his troubled eyes with my heated stare. "Well, you know what? I'm already gone. This isn't the Buffy you once knew. She's gone, and she isn't ever coming back." I smile cruelly at him. "Deal with it."

And before he can even gather his thoughts together, I hit him with as much Slayer strength I can muster up. He slumps to the ground, also unconscious. Moving him out of the way of my closet, I dig through it, looking for some clothes that weren't so happy looking. I find some black pants I haven't worn in a while and a tight black shirt that said "Bite me" on the front. Quickly changing, I look in the mirror and stare at my reflection once again. I stare at the woman I've become and I can't help but feel disgusted by it. My face crumples and I glance at the unconscious bodies on the floor. Hardening my face, I glance back at the mirror and decide that I'll have to deal with it.

And I realize that what I'm looking at isn't a woman.

It's a monster.


	4. Accusations and Revenge

Accusations and Revenge

"She's possessed!"

Xander threw his arms up for emphasis and looked around at the gang knowingly. Dawn raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, leaning back into the couch's soft cushions. She crossed her arms and looked away from the group, lost in her own thoughts.

Willow frowned softly at Xander, wincing at her bruised cheek. "I don't think so, Xand. If she was possessed I would've been able to feel it, sense it in her aura. And besides, it wouldn't add up anyway. I mean, she was crying her eyes out before she went all 'grrr,'" she said, making claw motions with her hands, "I don't think a possessing demon would be that emotional."

Xander sighed. "Well, it's got to be something evil!" Then his eyes widened and he gave a little bounce on the couch, pointing at Willow, "Oh! Oh! A spell! It's gotta be a spell! That's what's making Buffy all insane."

"She's not insane!"

The whole gang was surprised at the outburst, and they turned to look at Dawn, who was practically fuming on the far end of the couch, successfully separate from the rest of the group. She pinned them all with a furious glare that so unbearably resembled that of her sister's; Spike, leaning uneasily against the doorway, felt a tug at his heart as he studied her with painful eyes.

Willow frowned at her. "Dawnie, Xander didn't mean –"

"She wouldn't even be like this if it weren't for you!" Dawn shouted, jumping to her feet now and focusing her glare on Willow, who was gaping at her in shock. "You pulled her out of Heaven! You made her crawl out of her freakin **grave**! No wonder she's depressed. If I was her, I would've put a piece of glass to my wrist, also!"

Tara, who had been silent up until then, widened her eyes at Dawn. "Dawn –"

"DON'T you even TRY to defend her!" Dawn burst. At this, the Scoobies were beyond shocked, because Dawn adored Tara and Willow. She had never raised her voice at them. Ever.

"You're all sitting here, pretending that something's wrong with her, cause hey, she can't have issues, can she? She has to be perfect, no mistakes for the Slayer. Well guess what? She's not perfect. She's miserable and she doesn't know how to deal. I wonder who's fault that is?" she adds with a pointed glare, "So don't any of you even dare try to say there's something evil or _wrong_ about my sister. What she is now is because of you." Dawn raised her chin, glaring down at the people she had always so completely trusted. "I hope you're happy. You broke the person that means the most to me in this world." With that, she stomped past them and up the stairs to her room, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

The Scoobies sat in the living room, frozen in their seats. Willow had tears spilling down her face and Xander sat pensive on the couch, his jaw set firmly. Tara did her best to comfort Willow, but it was mostly useless. Even Anya sat quiet next to Xander, at least having the sense to not make any comments. The intense silence was broken suddenly by a chuckle from the doorway. Four heads turned to Spike.

"Well, well, 'Lil Bit is more like her sister than I thought. Made you all shut up for a change," he said, smirking at the Scoobies and not feeling the tiniest bit of pity for any of them.

Xander scowled at him. "Shut up, Spike! What the hell are you doing here anyway?"

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Well, I seem to recall saving the Slayer from bleeding to death."

Xander clenched his fists, disturbed by the fact that Spike was the one that had gotten to Buffy first. "And now that you've done that, it doesn't answer my question. So why don't I rephrase it. What the hell are you **still **doing here?"

Spike clenched his jaw. "Well, Dog Boy, as much as you hate it, I **do** love the Slayer. So forgive me for not wanting to go off and play kitten poker with some of the fella's."

Xander opened his mouth to protest, but Spike cut him off. "You know what, sod it. You lot aren't doing anything except pitying yourselves, anyway. I'm going to look for the Slayer. "

Spike turned towards the front door but was stopped by Willow's voice. "Wait, Spike. Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, you saw how she was, maybe it is something mystical…or maybe it's not. But whatever it is, she's barely stable. What would you do if you found her anyway?"

Spike sighed. "I don't know, Red, but I have to do something. I can't just stand around while she's somewhere flinging herself off a cliff or –" His eyes widened as he took that in. "Oh, bloody hell."

"What?" Willow asked.

"I should have bloody known!" At the gang's confused looks, he rolled his eyes. "She's gone to fling herself off a cliff, you morons!" Heading back towards the front door, he ignored Willow calling his name and stormed outside. Closing his eyes and catching the unique scent of Buffy, he ran down the road and followed it, hoping he wasn't too late.

I stand at the edge, looking down the steep cliff and wincing as I imagine myself falling to the ground. It would be painful…very, but this is the only other way I can do it. I already tried cutting myself, that didn't work. This way…they couldn't stop me. It would be a quick death and no one was here to tell me otherwise. Just step off the cliff…and that would be it.

But as I continue staring down at what could be my death, there is a different feeling inside of me that wasn't there when I cut myself. I feel…different then before. I had felt weak, having no desire to do anything, not even slay. But now, I feel a surge of power inside of me and have the sudden need to be violent. To pummel something into the ground. To see the look of absolute terror on a demon's face and revel in it. There is so much hostility in me now and suddenly I know what I want to do. What it is that I need.

"Revenge," I whisper.

The word is music to my ears and I no longer feel guilt for wanting it. To get back at the people who had started this in the first place. My friends.

They aren't really my friends, though, of course. I actually don't think they ever have been. True friends wouldn't have done this to me. They wouldn't have ripped me from peace and happiness just because they needed me back. True friends wouldn't have been that selfish and stupid. They aren't friends.

They're enemies.

I smile now to myself, taking pleasure in the fact of getting revenge on them. I breathe in deeply, wondering where I should start first.

But as I hear the footsteps behind me and that distinct British voice calling my name, I smile.

I know exactly where I'm going to start.


End file.
